


Mi Fuego

by adoropomodoro



Series: Vienna Verse [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Crisis of Faith, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoropomodoro/pseuds/adoropomodoro
Summary: Lovino is a Catholic adrift, finding himself in Vienna in the hopes of starting a new life, free from guilt. Antonio, the enigmatic and complex Spaniard with whom he shares an apartment, flips his world upside down and together they teach each other more than they ever could imagine from each other. What does a sanctimonious Italian and a Pollyannaish Spaniard have in common, anyway?





	1. All night kept awake, for sinners sake to grieve

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly dragged back into the abyss that is Hetalia, once more. But shame be damned, I love these characters.
> 
> This story takes place at the same time as "Vielleicht dieses Mal", by Corus. They can be read separately, but we recommend you read both for a greater overview of the verse (and bc they both good).
> 
> Title is taken from "St. Agnes", by John Keats.

Lovino closed his eyes as the lukewarm water hit his face. He shivered and turned up he shower handle until the drops instead burned his skin. He relished in the heat and sighed deeply, feeling his breath hitch in the back of his throat. In here, he could close his eyes and pretend like he wasn’t miles away from home, like he wasn’t betraying himself and the path he had been so certain that he would follow.

He ran his hands through his hair, working in the shampoo carefully, with stiff fingers. His chest felt tight and he closed his eyes once more as he washed his hair. Before his closed eyelids flashed images, memories, guilt. He opened his eyes sharply and reached for the bar of soap, and methodically began washing his body with it, desperately seeking distraction. He had been in Vienna less than 72 hours, and already felt like he was out of breath, out of control, wildly out of place. Sure, he had found a job and he had a flat, which he shared with a questionable Spaniard he’d found online, but what else did he have? Lovino didn’t know, and didn’t want to think about it. 

When his fingertips had pruned and the mirror was thoroughly fogged up, he turned the shower off and stepped out, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist. He dried his hair roughly with another and avoided wiping off the mirror to face his reflection. Rummaging through the contents of the bathroom cupboard he managed to find his comb which he had stuffed in there yesterday, and he ran it through his hair before turning the lock and stepping out of the bathroom. 

“Had a nice shower? Better be some hot water left in there.”

Lovino’s gaze shot up and met the eyes of his roommate, Antonio, who had a coy smile on his face. He felt a loss of words, oddly embarrassed, and near subconsciously grasped the edge of his towel tighter where it hung around his waist. 

“It was good,” he replied rather rigidly, struggling to not trip over the words in his accent. It had been some time since he’d had an actual conversation in English, and his Italian origins shone through, painfully obvious. Then again, the Spaniard’s accent was quite clear as well, with it’s light lilting. 

He turned to walk into his room as Antonio demanded his attention again. He gripped his towel tighter and turned around, feeling a little uncomfortable, and incredibly exposed. 

“You’re settling in fine anyway, right?” 

“Yes.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” 

“I’m sure I’ll have great colleagues..”

“That’s not good enough,” Antonio flashed him another smile, with a twinkle in his eyes that made Lovino press his bare back against the doorframe a little harder, he held back a wince as he felt a loose screw graze his spine. “Wanna come to a party this weekend? A friend of mine is having a housewarming party this weekend, you should join.”

“I...eh…” he was scrambling to find an excuse to decline, but wasn’t fast enough as the cheerful Spaniard took his dumbfoundedness as affirmative. 

“Oh you’ll love my friends, they’re great. I’ll introduce you to everyone!” 

“... sure, great,” was all Lovino could get out before he backed out of the kitchen, excusing himself with a nod to the Spaniard, who still had that coquettish smile on him. He thought himself to catch a wink before he closed the door to his room, his cheeks heating up as he suddenly felt even more aware of how much skin he was showing.

The tight knot in his chest had loosened up slightly, but was now replaced by this uncomfortable, warm fluttering feeling which he couldn’t place, and refused to recognise. He reached for his rosary on his desk and hung it around his neck again, the habit of it embracing him in a brief sense of calm. He quickly put on a t-shirt and boxers before slipping underneath the covers of his bed, which felt incredibly inviting as the fatigue following the hot shower hit him full force. He laid his head down on the pillow and reached clumsily for his Bible as he tried to push away the nervous thoughts echoing in his head, pondering whatever the Spaniard’s friend’s social gathering would entail. He flicked through the pages of the book in his hand before he found the passage where he had stopped reading last night. His eyelids were heavy but a brief glance over at the Madonna, watching over him from his bedside table, encouraged him to keep reading.

He soon gave up on his nightly reading and put the Bible back in its place in the bedside drawer, and quietly recited his evening prayer, ending with his usual act of contrition.

“... O my God, I am sorry for my sins because I have offended you. I know I should love you above all things. Help me to do penance, to do better, and to avoid anything that might lead me to sin. Amen.”

For some reason he felt an even heavier wave of guilt than he normally did, and when he turned out the light and closed his eyes to sleep, Antonio’s green eyes and brilliant smile beguiled him. He tossed around a couple of times, hoping to clear his haunted mind from improper fantasies of imagined touches, embraces, kisses. They all made his mind race and his chest tingle, but he knew far too well how sinful they were. He groaned in frustration as he opened his eyes and stared up into the ceiling, stretching out on his back and kicking the sheets off him. And maybe it was the lack of sleep he’s experienced prior this week, or maybe it was the fact that when he laid there in the dark, he felt utterly alone for the first time in a long time. But for once, he allowed himself to sneak a peak of his inappropriate thoughts, to indulge only just a little. It felt wrong, but he simply couldn’t shake the Spaniard’s charm. Why was he being so forward anyways? Maybe coming along to that party would help in slowing things down, but Lovino highly doubted that. 

. 

Lovino had always had faith. Faith in God, faith in his choices and reasons, and, occasionally, in himself. He’d never been “the funny one” or “the talented one”; those roles were already filled by his cousin Angelo and his younger brother Feliciano. Lovino had instead quite early on assumed a position of stability and responsibility. Predictable. Boring. 

Devoting his life to doing the work of the Lord had seemed like the natural choice for him - it fit along well with his sense of morale, it was righteous, and it would perhaps make his nonno proud of him. So, while Feli had fluttered off to pursue his artistic inclinations and had met his partner, the abominable German, Lovino had kept away from any and all temptation, joining a seminary as soon as he came of age. He was still young, the youngest one there, but nobody minded. Finally, he received the praise that had escaped him all his childhood. 

Taking on a life of chastity wasn’t a hard choice, and he never before felt like he made the great sacrifice that his grandpa thought he was making when he had first told him. He didn’t understand the big deal, really. It wasn’t as if he was the first choice to carry on the family line, anyway. Sure, his brother was a lost cause, but their cousin had the charm of ten Italians, and could surely attempt to uphold the family honour and carry on their legacy. Lovino had never found himself with an interest in girls, and any other relations, like the one his brother was engaged in, was a sin in the eyes of the church. Lovino put up with his brother’s antics simply out of pure, unconditional love, but he wasn’t sure if he really approved. If he had to be a sinner, couldn’t he at least be sinning with someone a little more agreeable? Lovino never understood what Feliciano saw in Ludwig, the quiet, serious, dumb German that he was seeing. Bastard potato-eater. 

Yet even if that whole thing wasn’t unrighteous to begin with, Lovino didn’t understand it anyways. Other men bothered him, and he’d never made, and surely hadn’t kept, many male friends throughout the years. In fact, Antonio might be the first in a long while. 

 _Antonio_. 

Damn that Spaniard - he was the most frustrating person Lovino had ever met, in his confusingly unpretentious simplicity. Yet, everything about Antonio enticed him, drew him in, and he found himself unable to keep the Spaniard out of his mind most of the time these days. He couldn’t bring himself to block the thoughts out, despite knowing he should. How could something so wrong feel so good, and be so beautiful? His smile, his eyes, his tan, his curly brown hair… 

Lovino opened his eyes sharply, making eye contact with the Madonna idol before him, and he knitted his fingers together a little tighter, a little more aggressively, as he tried to focus on his prayers instead. He glanced nervously around him, as if the other churchgoers could read his thoughts, but of course nobody paid him any mind. He’d never really had an issue with thoughts such as these, and by the way they rushed around in his head he felt as though they were being blasted out on a loudspeaker. His whole being felt restless, tense. Constantly on edge.

He prayed daily for his brother, and for his soul to be saved from hell, even if said brother seemed entirely unconcerned with the notion of eternal punishment. He knew he couldn’t change his brother’s feelings, and would rather die before seeing Feli’s heart broken, but he genuinely feared for him. What if something happened to him? He’d never forgive himself if he hadn’t at least tried to save him, even if it was without his brother’s knowledge or consent. Perhaps that was another reason why it had been so easy to justify a life of a priesthood for Lovino - he had to somehow make the balance right in his family. He had to pay for his brother’s sins when Feliciano couldn’t, and thus he felt like that has been the right way to go. 

Yet, here he was, in _Stephansdom_ , feeling like the traitor that he was, wondering if he was even welcome anymore. He glanced up at the Madonna, at her fair face and stretched out hands. Surely, he could be forgiven for leaving the seminary, right? God wouldn’t want him to do something that he wasn’t sure of, he told himself. But he knew that wasn’t the whole truth to his guilt, and found himself begging for forgiveness as much for himself as he did for his brother. He had yet to make a confession since, and he felt the guilt gnawing at him. He had been going on for months now, still not knowing what to say.

Lovino had faith, still, even after the things he’d seen and heard. Faith in God, and faith in repentance. But the church? The institution? They had lost Lovino’s faith for good as they cursed his brother and closed their doors on him, and Lovino had lost them forever as he’d turned his back on them, cursing their inability for forgiveness. And now he sat here, alone and downcast, with nothing and nobody to back him up, to help him, other than his faltering conviction which wasn’t much to cling to. He rose from his seat, keeping his gaze on the floor as he hurriedly left the cathedral and entered the bustling Stephansplatz outside. He pulled up his phone from his pocket and put the sound back on, seeing a missed call from Antonio. 

_Speak of the devil…_

He pushed his phone back into his pocket and started walking briskly towards the u-bahn station, crossing through the masses of tourists gathering at the square. It was getting late, and he had a party to attend. The mere thought made him jittery, and he practically leapt down the stairs into the metro. He wasn’t sure if he was exhilarated or terrified. 

. 

“ _My loneliness is killing me, and I! I must confess, I still believe, STILL BELIEVE!”_

Lovino closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to focus. He had three shirts laid out on his bed, his crucifix dangling from his neck onto his naked chest, and he was saying a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing going to this gathering tonight with Antonio. That damn Spaniard, who was making it very hard for Lovino to focus with his constant singing. Not that he was bad at it, no he was outright good. Lovino couldn’t help but imagine him singing a lovely hymn instead of whatever garish 90’s pop song he was belting out in the shower right now. He grasped his crucifix as his thoughts spiraled and he forced himself to focus on the shirts once more. 

He knew he shouldn’t be vain like this, but he felt like he needed to make a good impression tonight. However odd and presumptuous the Spaniard was, he was friendly and kind, and for the time being his only friend in Vienna - and in general, actually -  willing to introduce him to more people. He briefly let his fingers run across the fabric of the shirts before settling on the least conspicuous one, a dark grey, casual, button down that would go nicely with his black pants He put it on in front of the dirty mirror that was put up on the inside of his closet, and he looked at himself in the eyes in a lame attempt at encouragement. It worked so-so, and after only briefly fixing his hair he shut the door to the closet with a bit too much force, cursing under his breath. He opened the door to his room to step out into the kitchen and immediately crashed into Antonio, who was half-naked and still damp from the shower. He jumped back as if he’d had an electric shock and Antonio laughed. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said with a wink, to which Lovino could only muster a scowl. He added, “You look good tonight.” 

“Thank you,” Lovino said, straightening out the hem of his shirt abashedly. “You look like you’re not ready to leave.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about the time,” Antonio admitted sheepishly. “Don’t worry, we won’t be too late. I’ll be done soon, have a drink or something while you wait. I’ve got some on the top shelf in the fridge, help yourself.”

With that, he disappeared into his room, leaving Lovino alone in the kitchen. Confused, and if possible even more nervous, he reached for a clean glass in the cupboard above the sink and poured himself a glass of water. The cold water relaxed him slightly, and brought interim clarity to his thoughts. He leaned with his back to the kitchen counter and pushed his right hand into his pocket, pulling out his rosary, not sure if he needed it for spiritual reasons or just for plain fiddling. He heard Antonio humming to himself behind the door, which hadn’t quite closed, and Lovino caught himself slightly craning his neck to peek through the crack in the doorway. He knew he shouldn’t, and he was about to avert his eyes when Antonio came into his field of vision, his tan torso clearly visible through the opening in the door. There was something easy about the way he moved, something unburdened and earnestly sanguine about him that transfixed Lovino’s gaze. He didn’t notice that he was spacing out until the door creaked open and he desperately scrambled to feast his eyes on something, _anything_ , else. Antonio joined him in the kitchen, seemingly unbothered and probably unaware of Lovino’s inappropriate peaking. 

“Alright then, ready to go?” 

Antonio looked unusually well-dressed and, well, quite frankly ravishing in a tight-fitting, off-white button up and black jeans, and he smelled so good that Lovino forgot to reply for a second. He set down his glass of water on the counter, a little harshly, maybe. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea after all.”

Antonio’s smile fell a little, and a Lovino felt a stab of guilt. “Oh… are you not feeling well?” 

“I just don’t think that I ought to. For… moral reasons.” 

Antonio’s gaze fell to the crucifix that Lovino was still fiddling with, and his disappointed expression quickly flipped into one of hopefulness. “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about it! Apparently Laura lives in a kind of Christian accommodation, ish.”

Lovino’s interest peaked again, and he eyed the Spaniard carefully before responding. “Is that so?”

Antonio nodded enthusiastically. “Sí! So please come, it’ll be so much fun!”

Lovino’s eyes met Antonio’s for a brief moment that felt like it lasted much longer than it did. The kitchen was small, the air stood still and _damn_ did Antonio smell nice. What was it he had thought out to protest with again? Lovino’s brain had detached from the rest of his body, and all he perceived was Antonio, who, he realised, was still waiting for a reply. Before he had time to change his mind again, he pushed himself off the kitchen counter, put the rosary back into his pocket, and replied, with more confidence than he’d anticipated. 

“Let’s go.” 


	2. Like pious incense from a censer old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from "St. Agnes", by John Keats.

“Welcome to Bible study! We’re all children of Jesus here!” 

They had barely entered the loud corridor room which seemed to be the source of the pounding music before they were greeted by the person who, Lovino assumed, was the host of this party. Lovino’s eyes widened as he gazed up at the tall, bubbly blonde’s greeting to Antonio, to which he  _ laughed  _ before hugging her amicably. It was quite clear she was already quite intoxicated.

“Hi to you too Laura, nice to see you livening up this place! I was afraid you’d become boring.” 

“Oh me? Never!” the blonde, Laura, smiled at Antonio’s clearly teasing tone, her English tinted with an accent Lovino couldn’t place. “And who’s your friend?” 

Laura’s jade eyes met Lovino’s and he was suddenly aware that he’d been staring at her during her entire conversation with Antonio. He extended a hand to her and mumbled an awkward greeting. 

“Nice to meet you, Lovino! I’m Laura.” She shook his hand enthusiastically, her blonde curls bouncing as she turned swiftly to Antonio and enthusiastically whispered something in his ear that was drowned out by the noise surrounding them. “Hey, you want a drink?” 

“No thank you,” Lovino declined quietly, feeling awkward as Antonio turned to greet another friend who had come up and given him a hug that was responded with just as warmly from Antonio.

“Francis, mi amigo!” 

The blond man who had hugged him let out a joyous laughter and grabbed Antonio’s face with his hands as they exchanged friendly cheek kisses, which somehow seemed oddly formal in the light of the hugs they’d already exchanged. Another blond approached, this one looking far less elegant than the first, his hair short and rather spiky where the first man’s hair was kept at a lush and voluminous shoulder length. He extended a hand, which Antonio took, only to pull the man in for a hug. It was met with considerably less enthusiasm than from the first man, and the spiky-haired one quickly exerted himself out of the situation. He spoke in a distinctly British accent when he addressed Antonio.

“Hi- eh, alright, fine, old chap. You haven’t changed much I see.” 

“Nice to see you too, Arthur!” Antonio chuckled, trying to ruffle the British man’s hair, only for him to duck away. “Hey, where’s Gil?”

“Nobody knows,” the first blond, Francis, said with an eye roll before sipping his glass of white wine. He had a thick French accent, and Lovino shuddered. He hated the French. “Probably just late, comme d'habitude.”

“I hope he shows up, I haven’t seen him in a while.” 

“He just texted me that he’ll be a bit late,” Laura said, looking up from her phone to join the conversation. “Bets on  _ how  _ late exactly?” 

The conversation ensued between the three blondes and Antonio on how late the friend of theirs would be, and Lovino saw the opportunity to silently sneak off to a hopefully less populated corner of the room. Without further hesitation and without attracting the attention of his companion, he turned to leave only to immediately see a way too familiar face. 

“Angelo? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh what poor  _ language  _ the pious Lovino uses, I ought to call Papa Francesco on you. Or, better yet, nonno.” 

“Shut up, you little shit,” Lovino scowled at his smirking cousin, who, to his utter dismay, towered over him. “I thought you were supposed to be in Italy?”

“Yup, but then I saw this cool film that took place here, and I thought ‘Hey, why not Vienna?’ So now I’m here, studying.” Angelo eyed him with his usual sardonic, yet curious, expression on his face. “What are  _ you  _ doing here, anyway?”

“I work downtown. Needed a change of scenery.” 

“Oh, that’s cool I guess, was mainly referring to this party but whatevs” Angelo shrugged, drinking something out of a large plastic cup, making him wince. “So… how’ve you been? Heard you quit church.”

“I just departed from the seminary, but yeah basically, I guess,” Lovino replied, still finding it rather odd to run into his cousin at a place like this. These days he was less like a family member and more like an annoying acquaintance of his past, to be honest, but here he was and Lovino might as well try to get along with him for once. It wasn’t as if he had a whole lot of other people to talk to. 

“Good on you!” Angelo took another sip as he let his eyes pan the small but crowded room. Something in his eyes lit up an he pressed the cup into Lovino’s hands suddenly, urgently. He patted his shoulder half heartedly. “Hold on to this, will ya? Catch up with you later.”

With that, he pushed past Lovino and towards one of the beds that was pushed against the wall, and functioned as a sofa. Some people were sat on it; two young blondes, and one brunette gentleman. Lovino thought himself to recognize the brunette as the dignified man that left his and Antonio’s apartment in a hurry on his day of moving in, but he could tell that he hadn’t been the target of his cousin’s urgency. That fool was now standing before the trio, gesturing wildly and talking excitedly with the young woman who sat at the far edge of the sofabed, and she listened to him with a calm, yet amused, expression on her face. Bewildered at his cousin’s obvious charm and ease with women, Lovino pushed himself against the wall and slowly made his way to a corner of the room where he could have a seat on the edge of the other bed. He sniffed at the contents of Angelo’s cup, and following a gagging sensation arising from it he instinctively tipped it over into the large flower pot standing on the floor. 

_ Sorry, Laura _ . 

As he thought of her, feeling bad for not so accidentally ruining her plant, she appeared before him, with yet another blonde in tow. He awkwardly scrunched up the plastic cup in his fist, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

“Hey Lovino, you should meet Basch! He speaks Italian, just like you! Antonio told me where you’re from, so I thought maybe you two could get together and chat! Drinks?” 

He looked up and eyed the young man she’d brought with her. He shook his head politely at her, seeing the blonde man doing the same. He was quite short, and looked possibly even more uncomfortable than Lovino felt in here. Laura had him sit down on the bed next to Lovino by persuasion and maybe a little force, before she fluttered off somewhere else at the party.

“Hello,” Lovino greeted awkwardly, and the short man next to him responded in the same manner.

“This is pretty dumb,” was the only thing Lovino could think of saying, and the other blond made a non-commital noise. Shit, this ought to be fun. 

“So… you’re from Italy, then?” Basch asked, pausing slightly before continuing. “How did you end up in Vienna?”

“I got a job,” Lovino replied, matter-of-factly, not quite being in the mood to over-share, or share at all for that matter. “You?”

“Studies. Economy.” 

. 

The conversation with Basch was all but appealing, as they mutually realised quite soon that they had absolutely nothing in common other than their vague understanding of each other’s languages. The other’s Swiss  _ dialetto  _ seemed clumsy to Lovino, and it irked him more than he had expected it would. He excused himself under the pretense of finding Antonio, whom he had actually come here with and thus should spend more time with, and Basch gave a similar excuse. The Swiss left the bed, as did Lovino, especially as things were getting considerably raunchier there than he’d ever anticipated to witness. The image of the Frenchman and the Brit from earlier shooting alcohol from each other’s naked belly buttons was disturbing enough, and could only be surpassed by the mental image he still had ingrained in his mind of the two of them grinding on each other on the other end of the room earlier that night, tongues practically in each other’s throats. Oh, wait, nevermind. Now they were making out again. 

Lovino averted his eyes and saw the small cross fastened on the wall above the bed.  _ Christian accommodation, ish _ .  _ Sure thing. They don’t even have a crucifix, only an ugly, naked cross _ . He shook his head in disbelief, sending a silent prayer. At the other end of the room, the girl his cousin had been flirting with was busy gambling with a man Lovino hadn’t seen arrive, and Angelo was still hanging around, cheering on her and attempting to psyche the other man into losing. Lovino swivelled his head around in search of Antonio. He needed to find someone slightly more normal and agreeable in this room to latch onto. 

*

“You didn’t answer my text yesterday,” Roderick said, sipping slowly, dignified, from his drink. “Were you busy?”

Antonio looked at Roderick sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, taking a big gulp from his drink as well before replying. “Yeah I was working, man. And besides, I told you last time that that was the last time.”

“You  _ always  _ say that, Antonio.” Roderick’s tone wasn’t accusing; it was rather matter-of-factly, and he raised a neat eyebrow.

“I know…” Antonio scratched the back of his neck and glanced over at the room where Lovino was standing, looking equal parts befuddled and horrified as his eyes darted to the cross on the wall from Arthur and Francis getting hot and heavy on the bed. “But I don’t imagine us having any more late-night meetings again anytime soon, since I got my eyes set on someone.” 

His gaze betrayed his unintended secrecy, and Roderick glanced over at Lovino, interest sparkling in his eyes. “Him?” 

“Yeah, I’m just like ridiculously attracted to him man, he’s so gorgeous.” The elevated alcohol levels already in Antonio’s bloodstream made him forget to be ashamed of his crude bluntness. “I really want him, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course I know what you mean; you just told me.” Roderick rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to Antonio with a curious look on his face. Antonio matched it as he tried to figure out what his friend was thinking, despite his head feeling heavy.

“What are you looking like that for?”

“Nothing, I just…” Roderick tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Nevermind. He simply looks familiar.” 

Antonio shrugged his shoulders, not giving Roderick’s words much thought, and was immediately distracted when Lovino suddenly appeared before him, and he turned to him and smiled broadly. He could sense a slight slurring in his voice as he spoke, but was far too pleased at seeing the Italian to care. 

“Hola Lovino, what’s up?” 

“I just had the most uninteresting conversation ever, with probably the most awkward person I’ve ever encountered. And this place is so fucking full of sin, it’s stifling.” 

“Hey hey, you shouldn’t say stuff like that! I’m sure he’s a really nice person,” Antonio looked around nervously and let out a shaky laughter, swiftly ignoring Lovino’s last comment. He was not in a state to reflect on the Lord’s words right now. “Maybe it was just the language barrier?” 

“Language barrier? Damn right it was, his Italian sucked ass.” 

“Italian? Was he Italian?” 

“No, just some Swiss poser.”

“Well anyway, I really think you oughta keep it down with the critique, in case he hears you.” Antonio let out another nervous laughter, his eyes darting around the room, failing to spot the short blond he had seen Lovino talking to earlier.

“It’s a sin to lie. I’m only doing what pleases the Lord.” Lovino folded his arms across his chest, his facial expression a mix of a sanctimoniousness and just plain glowering.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Do I look like I someone who would drink?” 

Roderick, who had been quietly watching the conversation unfold, suddenly butted in. “Pardon my intrusion, I simply must ask,” he turned to Lovino and Antonio’s interest peaked, looking desperately for a distraction from a conversation on sinning and whatnot. “Your face looks very familiar. Tell me, did we have sex in Florence?” 

Antonio was caught between laughing and gasping and couldn’t help but let out a snort, but Lovino’s face conveyed no amusement. The Italian’s face turned bright red, and he stuttered and spat as he struggled to get a response out, pointing wildly, accusingly, with his index finger at the Austrian. 

“You… what… I never… you… you fucking  _ bastard _ , how  _ dare  _ you…” 

It only took Antonio seconds to get over his initial amusement before he had to snap into action and step in between Roderick and Lovino to stop the latter from imploding or scratching the former one’s eyes out. Roderick took a step back with a disturbingly neutral look on his face, and Antonio grabbed Lovino by the arm, dragging him out of the room and into the corridor. He was still spitting incoherent insults, which were drowned out by the pounding music, and Antonio closed the door behind them to get some privacy before stopping somewhere further down the corridor. Lovino wasn’t trying to wring himself out of his gentle, yet resolute, grip anymore but was still fuming. Antonio let go of him and Lovino began ranting once more, this time more coherently. 

“That  _ bastard _ ! How dare he think something like that, that  _ I _ would engage in something so sinful? I would never, I couldn’t, like, as if?! Do I look like someone who’d do that?!” 

Antonio dragged a hand across his face, feeling fatigue sting in his eyes and he stayed quiet as Lovino’s rage slowly died out, making sure to block way through the corridor a little bit by leaning on the wall, in case he suddenly would want to go back and finish whatever he had started with Roderick, but also to shield Lovino from onlooking partygoers in the kitchen. Finally, the energy that previously fueled him seemed to leave Lovino, and he sunk down onto the floor, and sat himself against the wall with his knees pulled up. 

“I could never… I can’t believe him,” he muttered, but the aggression and fury had cooled down slightly. Antonio too slid down the wall until he was sitting next to Lovino on the floor. He glanced at the Italian sideways, who was staring intently at the floor. 

“Yeah…” he started with a sigh, feeling considerably more sober now than he’d felt mere moments ago. “There’s obviously a lot to unpack here. How about I just take you home?”

The Italian nodded, and Antonio stood up, stretching out his hand to help Lovino up from the floor. He took mental notice of how the other didn’t let go of his hand immediately as he led him out of the corridor, and a sense of calmness settled in him after the tumultuous events that had just ensued. 

The night outside was still quite warm, and despite most of the shops and restaurants being closed the street was well-lit. Antonio and Lovino walked slowly down the street, passing by other people heading home as well, and their laughter and small talk echoed between the building walls. The restaurant Mama Liu and Sons was still open, and so was his favourite bar, Marea Alta, and Antonio observed love drunk or just plain drunk couples leaving for their next destination that evening. He glanced over at Lovino, who was still keeping his gaze low, and was muttering to himself. 

“I  _ can’t believe  _ that priss thought that about me… I mean, do I really look like someone who would  _ fornicate  _ with someone, and in  _ Florence  _ nonetheless, that dreadful place, I never-” 

He stopped dead in the street, suddenly, and a horrified expression crossed his face as he exclaimed in Italian, “Holy shit, Feliciano! _ Bastardo maledetto _ !” 

He turned 180 degrees and started marching right back up the street, and Antonio had to jog to catch up with him and stop him, tugging on his sleeve which caused Lovino to turn swiftly and glare at him. There was that rage again, but wilder and less focused. 

“He  _ besmirched  _ my brother! I mean, sure I know he’s already fucking himself to a first class trip to hell, but at least it’s with someone I know cares about him and won’t leave him, even if he is as dumb as a box of rocks, not like that snobbish prick, I will  _ kill  _ him I-”

“Hey, whoa whoah, it’s cool,” Antonio shushed him, placing both his hands on Lovino’s shoulders, gently forcing him to stop and look at him. “It’s okay. I know Roderick can come off as rude, but he’s a good guy, I promise. Whatever happened between him and your brother I’m sure wasn’t as bad as you imagine it.” 

Lovino was still seething, but he was listening, and slowly started to breathe normally again, no longer showing any signs of running off again to murder Roderick. Yet, Antonio continued standing there with him, softly rubbing his shoulders and upper arms in comfort. In all honesty, he had no idea what to say or what to do, but seeing Lovino angry or upset made him feel powerless and disconcerted, so he figured he’d just stand there with him for however long he had to. Eventually, he felt like it was time to suggest continuing their journey home, and Lovino agreed without another word. 

The rest of their journey home was spent in silence, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable silence that one would’ve expected from the earlier circumstances that night. Lovino was clearly still upset, and refused eye contact while he kicked a pebble in front of him the entire way to the u-bahn station. Antonio observed him as they sat opposite each other on the train, desperately wanting to break the silence but restraining himself to respect it.

This young man, so beautiful and so troubled, what was his story really? When Antonio two weeks ago had found his post on a website for apartment rentals he’d never imagined this scenario. He had needed a roommate to help him pay the bills, and he hadn’t really cared who it was. A young Italian man who desperately sought accommodation after having just been accepted for a job in Vienna seemed like a good match, and so he sent him an email. Now they sat here, in the gloomy light of the train, on its orange plastic seats, and he felt an odd mixture of curiosity and familiarity. There was so much they didn’t know about each other, yet Antonio felt comfortable with the other’s silent scowling in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. And somehow, he sensed that Lovino was comfortable with him as well, in his own way. 

Antonio suddenly felt a surge of guilt, and broke the silence right after they’d stepped off the train. “Sorry for not hanging out with you that much tonight. I got distracted; it wasn’t very courteous of me.”

Lovino looked up, finally, and his sad amber eyes met Antonio’s. In the light of the street, they glimmered golden. “I understand.”

His voice was low, and Antonio felt even worse. Lovino must be so much more lonely than he’d anticipated. He tried smiling at him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?” 

He could’ve been fooled, but there was definitely the ghost of a smile gracing Lovino’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lovino will come around, I promise. I sincerely hope I'm not offending anyone with his comments, but yeah he's a little too institutionalized atm.


	3. The prayer of a good person has a powerful effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name is taken from James 5:16 - one, simplified, interpretation of it.

Antonio crashed into the mattress with a heavy sigh. It was late, probably around 3, and he had recently finished his shift. His hair still reeked off whatever daily special they’d served that night, he no longer remembered. His cheeks ached from smiling, but smiling gave tips and he needed every cent he could get his hands on. He rolled over and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. At least he didn’t have to bother fixing those as this was just a rental, but he also knew all too well that his landlord wouldn’t bother either. He pulled out tonight’s tips out of his front pocket and laid it on the bedside table, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. At least it had been a decent night, in regards to money. 

 

A soft rain had started to fall on the window, and he reluctantly pulled himself up from where he was lying to undress. He really ought to shower, but every muscle in his body was resisting and he settled on just taking off his shirt and pants, and then crawled back into bed. He reached out his hand to search for his phone on the nightstand, and lazily set the alarm for tomorrow morning. He didn’t have many hours until he had to be at Starbucks, looking presentable and perky, so he soon let gravity do its thing and felt his heavy eyelids fall shut. 

. 

_ Knock, knock.  _

Antonio turned his head, squinting at the morning sun streaming in through the uncovered window. He groaned and turned the other way, pulling the quilt tighter around his shivering body. His mind was foggy, and he figured that he must’ve just imagined the knock on the door. He closed his eyes again and was just about to relax when he heard it again, accompanied by a soft, yet somewhat impatient voice. 

_ Knock knock.  _

“Antonio? Shouldn’t you be up by now?” 

Antonio jolted awake, sitting up straight in the bed, and reached for his phone. 

Dead. 

He jumped out of bed and reached for a pair of jeans he’d flung over the chair a day or two earlier. He stumbled for the bedroom door and opened it to find Lovino, coffeecup in hand, and holding out a second one in silence. His lazy scowl betrayed nothing behind this charitable deed. Antonio accepted the coffee with a grateful pat on the Italian’s arm as he threw a glance at the clock hanging on the wall next to the door. 6.00. He had 30 minutes before he had to be at work. 

“Oh shit, I must’ve overslept,” he drew a hand through his messy curls as he took a sip from the strong coffee. “Thank you for waking me up, Lovino! Why are you up this early anyways?”

“I… just am,” Lovino replied before sipping on his own coffee, averting his eyes from him to observe the clock as well. “I just noticed you usually get up this early on weekends. Why?” 

“Work,” Antonio shrugged, finishing his coffee and putting the cup in the sink. He briefly went back into his room for some socks and put his shoes on while reaching for the keys hanging next to the door. “Thanks so much again, Lovino, you really saved my ass today. Thank God you did.” 

“ _ Lord’s name in vain _ …” Lovino mumbled, before clearing his throat with a meaning look at Antonio, stopping him in his steps as he was halfway out the door. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” 

“What?” Antonio patted his pockets down, finding keys, phone, charger… “What did I forget? I mean, I know I should’ve showered, but I figure I’ll soon smell like baked goods and coffee anyways, so I’ll just-” 

“No, uh,” Lovino interrupted him, gesturing at him with his free hand while seemingly holding back a smile. “You’re not wearing a shirt.” 

“Oh… that’s right,” Antonio replied sheepishly, only now noticing his error, and jogged back into his room to fetch a shirt and a jacket before returning out to the door. “What would I do without you?”

“Sleep, clearly,” Lovino replied in a coy tone, one eyebrow slightly raised over the cup of coffee that obscured the lower half of his face. 

His tone, and the smile that lingered after he’d lowered his coffee cup made Antonio feel all warm and fuzzy, and he flashed him a keen smile back. 

“See you later!”

. 

“So, how’s Vienna, Lovi?” Feliciano hesitated only slightly before continuing. “How have you been?” 

“It’s alright. I’m good,” Lovino replied matter-of-factly, avoiding the deeper meaning that he inevitably knew was hidden in his brother’s words. “Vienna’s pretty shit though. The food is crap and people are really slow, even by Italian standards.” 

This response elicited a laugh from his younger brother, and Lovino allowed his own lips to be pulled into a rare smile. “Really?! That’s funny, Ludwig tells me that too - Austrians apparently aren’t much like Germans.” 

Lovino’s smile froze and he gritted his teeth. “No, definitely not.” 

_ They’re worse.  _

“So, anyway, I was thinking we could come visit you sometime maybe? Ludwig has a lot at work right now, and my course is quite stressful, but maybe we could come visit for just a weekend sometime soon?”

Lovino held his breath before replying. “I don’t know Feli, we’ll see. I’m quite busy, and I wouldn’t want you to come all this way only to not be able to see me.”

He could practically hear his brother’s enthusiasm fall over on the other side of the line, but years of outdoing everyone else’s excitement had set its effects in him and he quickly recovered from his disappointment. 

“That’s alright, we’ll find a date that works for us all some other time, perhaps next semester? I’ll have an exhibition next summer, and I’d love for you to come see it, I mean, I know you’re not too fond of Florence but I would really love it if you did come by! Anyway, how are you liking your roommate so far? Is he nice? Is it a guy, or is it a girl even? Are you getting along? Are they cute?”

Lovino scrambled to interrupt his brother, kicking the door to his room so it properly closed as he heard the keys in the door, and he switched off the speaker mode on the call. “He’s alright. Talkative, social. He introduced me to some of his friends last week.” 

“That sounds great Lovi! I’m so glad you’re making friends!!” 

“Yeah, whatever, they were alright I suppose.” 

“You’ll have to introduce me to all of them once we come over! Maybe we’ll even meet Ludwig’s older brother, he lives in Vienna, his name is Gilbert, have you met anyone named that by any chance, Lovi?”

Lovino’s thoughts briefly flew back to Lauras’ moving-in party where Antonio had discussed the absence of his friend ‘Gil’, but decided to ignore it. “Nope, doesn’t sound familiar. What, do you think I know everyone in this damn town? I’ve only lived here for barely a month.”

“Ah alright, well I’ll introduce you to him when we’re there, okay?”

“Sure,” Lovino grumbled. 

“Anyways, Lovi, it was nice to talk to you, but Ludwig’s just done with the cooking, so I should really get going for dinnertime! Do you want to say hi to him before we go?”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, just uh, enjoy your meal. It was nice speaking with you, Feli.” 

“Alright then, well I’ll talk to you soon! Say hi to your cute roommate from me!”

A click was heard as his brother ended their Skype conversation, and Lovino went cold. Had he accidentally described Antonio as  _ cute _ ? He wished he could go back in their conversation to find out. No, surely, he hadn’t said that. Typical of his whimsical brother to jump to conclusions like that. 

Said Spaniard was rummaging around in the kitchen, cooking something, and despite a distinct undertone of something burning it smelled good and Lovino’s belly grumbled. He probably should also get something to eat, and also check so that Antonio didn’t burn the house down. 

“Hey bastard, are you burning something or what?”

Antonio looked up from what he was cooking - some sort of tomato-based sauce - and smiled warmly at him. “Lovino! So great that you’re here, you hungry?”

The Spaniard motioned to the pots and pans as he spoke, and the realisation that he was cooking far too much food for one person to consume dawned on Lovino. “You’re cooking... for me?”

Antonio nodded enthusiastically. “Sí! After how you saved me this morning I figured I owed you-” he made a thoughtful pause and added with a wink, “and I guess I wanted to impress you a little with my mad cooking skills.” 

“Mad indeed,” Lovino replied, involuntarily letting out an amused scoff. “Something is  _ definitely  _ burning around here.”        

Antonio looked around the stove, slight worry hinting at his face, and breathed out a sigh of relief when he found the source. “Oh yeah, I just spilled some sauce here. No biggie. Wanna taste?”

Lovino hesitantly stepped closer, his fingers clasping the ladle held out to him, briefly brushing the other’s fingers as he handed it over. “This is... actually  _ really  _ good.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

“You sound so surprised.” Antonio held a hand to his chest in mock offense as Lovino handed back the ladle. “Do you not have any faith in me?”

“I just- I guess I am a bit picky,” Lovino admitted sheepishly. “But genuinely, this is impressive, for a non-Italian.” 

“Oh you’re gonna make me go all sappy in the tomato sauce,” Antonio laughed and Lovino laughed along, finding it as easy as breathing. He felt far away from the stifling panic that had him in its grasp mere hours ago, and he leaned on the kitchen counter, watching Antonio cook. 

The Spaniard hummed some vaguely familiar melody, and Lovino allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. These days he never got many chances to do so; he always seemed tightly wound, jittery. He barely slept, and he spent what seemed like every waking moment in shame and guilt. There were so many things weighing him down by now that he’d sometimes considered the thought of just not struggling anymore, letting it drag him down to the bottom. It seemed like such an easy relief, to just give in to the darkness and see where it took him. But he knew better than that, of course. He couldn’t afford an actual mental breakdown right now, since despite it all he still had something to live for, something to fight for. His brother, for one, was sometimes the sole light at the end of the tunnel that he’d been threading through for some time now. Innocent, sinful, Feliciano, who seemed to love him endlessly no matter how many wrongdoings he committed, no matter how rude he got, no matter how much he isolated himself from the family. Feliciano, who had no idea how lucky he was in his blissful ignorance, being the family favourite and nonno’s very own prodigy. Lovino envied him. 

This morning, he’d awoken early, as usual. The nightmares were frequent again, a hellish void threatening to engulf him every time he closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear sleeping for any longer than he had to, so he’d immediately left his bed when he awoke at 5 in the morning. Helping Antonio make it to work in time had been a lucky coincidence; merely based on the fact that Lovino hadn’t slept much the previous weekends neither. He vaguely remembered having heard the door close at 3 this morning and eyed Antonio suspiciously. No wonder he’d overslept, if he had come home that late. What had he been up to? 

“You came in late last night,” he remarked, his curiosity clawing at him and he had to restrain himself from not asking more. 

“Yeah, work’s tough right now,” Antonio muttered with a sigh before looking up to meet Lovino’s inquisitive gaze, and his lips curved into a valiant smile. “But that’s life, right?” 

“I suppose,” Lovino replied, absentmindedly. “But what kind of job sends you home at 3 and then demands you back at 7?” 

“No job, I hope!” Antonio chuckled lightly while stirring the tomato sauce, flinging some salt into it, and he added, in a cryptic voice, as if he was telling bedtime stories to a kid, “I’m more than just a barista, you see.” 

“Oh.” 

The response felt silly, and did not at all mirror what Lovino was thinking, but he had no idea what else to respond with. Antonio worked more than one job? He suddenly felt a surge of guilt over his one job, that he was having a hard enough time with for personal reasons, but  _ damn  _ at least he didn’t work 24/7. His chest felt jittery for completely different reasons than before as he watched his roommate stir around in the pots. Lovino pushed himself off from where he was leaning and reached into the cupboard for some plates to set the table with as the Spaniard finished up cooking. 

They ate in a comfortable silence, only occasionally breaking it with small talk, slowly getting to know each other better over their pasta napolitana. They talked about their respective families, briefly about their general interest, and about work. 

“Children’s bible study, huh? Didn’t peg you as very fond of children, if I may say so.”

“They’re fine, and quite funny at times,” Lovino admitted. “But I do have to restrain my language around them, which is fucking difficult sometimes, I tell ya.”

Antonio laughed, with a glint in his emerald eyes that entranced Lovino who couldn’t help but smile along with him. “Well, the more you know. I wish I had a job like that. I just work with busy people, old people, and backpackers.” 

“Well I imagine you won’t get bored with all that variation, at least.” 

“Yeah, that is true… but someday I’d like to continue my studies.”

“What did you study?”

“Urban studies, a master’s. Had to take a break due to economical reasons. Hey, why did you leave Italy?” 

Lovino wasn’t keen on answering that, but he also got a sense that Antonio didn’t want to talk much about his economic troubles, so he bit his lip before answering as truthfully as possible, without going into too much detail. “I was going to be a priest. I entered a seminary three years ago, but then… I had a change of heart. So I went here to start over, I suppose.” 

He spoke fast, focusing his gaze on the creases in the wooden surface of the dining table. His hands were underneath the table, picking at his cuticles in the absence of his rosary. He awaited Antonio’s response, but the other man was silent for far too long, and as Lovino finally looked at him he looked puzzled, like he wasn’t quite sure what to respond with. Lovino spoke again, mainly out of the panic that the silence produced in him. 

“I’m still trying my best to repent for my sins, though. Which is why I took this job. I need to try and make good.” 

He realised he was descending into rambling, and promptly stopped, giving Antonio a chance to finally reply. 

“Yeah, I mean, I get it. I don’t go to church as much as I used to either. You do your best with what you’ve got, right?” 

Not sure what to reply, Lovino simply hummed in response.  _ He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t even know half the story _ . He eyed the Spaniard and buried the thought in his mental pile of rubble for now. No pasta, no matter how good, could get him to open up this soon into a friendship. And something about it felt inherently sinful, so after they’d tidied up and Antonio had gone to the bathroom for a shower, Lovino felt compelled to pray. He wasn’t sure what he was begging for; forgiveness, guidance? His mind was dirty, but he had no intention of going to a confessional, because a dark, hidden, but quite strong, part of him enjoyed whatever this thing with Antonio was, and desperately needed to know where it was going. Even if the thought of it alone would drag him headfirst to hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Fietsisgestolen and AGN for your lovely comments! I'm very glad you're liking my work. Stay tuned for more!
> 
> Thanks again to Corus for beta-reading; you're a true brother.


	4. He's obvious despite himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus - grad school duty called. Here's a little in-between chapter introducing among other things nyo!America and nyo!Turkey (a bit OC almost, I must admit) and our favorite bickering lovebirds. Title is inspired by "Rattlesnakes" by Lloyd Cole and the Commotions. Longer chapter is on its way (!!).

“ _ Un café au lait, s’il vous plaît. _ ”

“And a double shot espresso, I suppose. Hi Antonio.”

Antonio looked up to greet Francis and Arthur, who had just walked in through the door. Arthur looked particularly annoyed today, and Antonio decided not to get in between whatever that was and simply smiled at them in his usual manner as he grabbed some cups. 

“I can’t believe we still go to this place, when all we drink is just normal bloody coffee! I should’ve gotten you a Nespresso for your birthday instead, damn it.” 

“But the way they do it here is just better! It has a certain…  _ je ne sais quoi _ .” 

“Oh shut up about your blasted  _ je ne sais quoi _ , there’s no difference! You’ve worked here yourself, you should know that there’s nothing special about this coffee!”

“But there is! Antonio always makes it extra special, don’t you?”

“Hey, I-”

“Don’t drag him into this!”

“Yeah, leave me out of this-” 

“Oh Arthur, you really should learn to enjoy the small things in life.”

“Like what?! Spending a metric fuckton of money on perfectly regular, mediocre coffee?! How is that enjoyment?” 

“Well those  _ are  _ the smaller things, making normal things in your everyday life special!”

“Oh don’t get all profound, Francis, not this early in the bloody morning.”

“Well  _ someone  _ woke up on the wrong side this morning…” 

“Hard not to when you're starfishing all over the bed.” 

Their bickering continued as Antonio hid behind the espresso machine, trying to focus on making their coffee at the same time as he also followed their argument with low interest. To be quite honest, the fight didn’t seem to be as much about coffee as it was about them just being contentious today. Like most days lately, really. They had always quarrelled amicably with each other, but lately their fights had been more sour; there was less teasing and more bitter nagging at each other - their scenes more frequent and more dramatic than usual. And Antonio wasn’t so sure they were making up like they used to. 

“Here’s your drinks, now take a hike and cool off, man. You’re scaring off the customers.” Antonio threw a nervous glance at some early customers huddled up in a corner of the shop with their teas and coffees. 

Francis accepted the cups and threw a glance over to his boyfriend who stood, sullen, by the door with his arms crossed. He looked back and rolled his eyes in that way that only he knew how. 

“Tell  _ him  _ that.”

“Look I don’t even know what that was about, but you’re no better.”

“Thanks for nothing then, bitch,” Francis betrayed his hurt tone with a wink, and added, “Have you looked at that link I sent you about the Halloween costumes? I still think we should coordinate for next week.”

“Oh yeah,  _ lo siento _ , I haven’t. I’ll give it a look later.” 

“Fine.  _ Au revoir, mon ami _ .”

“ _ Adiós _ ! And to you too, Arthur.” 

The Brit gave a halfhearted wave and an eyeroll as he accepted the cup Francis gave him before they exited the café. Antonio shook his head and grabbed a rag, wiping off the countertop full of grounded coffee beans and splattered milk. He rinsed the rag swiftly under the tap and looked up as the bell rang to receive another customer. It was a young woman, with wavy, golden hair reaching down to her shoulders , and an eye catching bomber jacket slung across her shoulders. Behind her she dragged a red cabin bag along. She walked with confidence, but no purpose, and offered him a dazzling smile as she approached the counter. Intrigued, he went with his standard phrase, in English, as she practically radiated tourism.

“Good morning, what can I get you?” 

“Good morning to you too! Man, I literally just arrived, like I’m so tired. 10 hours is way too long to spend in one place, don’t you agree?”

“Oh wow, that sounds incredibly boring.” He started, “Where are you from?” he then asked mainly out of politeness, since her brash, accent was clearly of American origin. 

“The US of A, of course! Just flew in from JFK, I’m here to see my cousin, it’s so great that I’ve got my fall break when he’s free, y’know? Anyhoo, I’ll have a caramel macchiato, to go. ” 

Failing to understand probably about half of what she had to say, he just went with, “Coming right up, what’s your name?” 

“Amelia,” the woman smiled, and he just about noticed a wink before he turned his eyes to the cup, scribbling her name out of pure habit and getting to work on her drink. Seeing as there was no other customers waiting in line behind her, she started up conversation again, eyeing him curiously. “So, you’re from around here?”

“No, I’m from a little village outside Seville, originally.” 

Confusion struck her expression, as she desperately scrambled for a response. “Eh, nice, is that in uh-” 

“It’s in southern Spain,” he continued with an encouraging smile.

“Ooh, Spain,  _ nice _ . How long have you been here for then?”

“About a year now, give or take. You want whipped cream?” he replied, doing the finishing touches on her coffee, and she nodded before she continued; 

“Oh you must know your way around pretty well, then? You see, I just arrived and can’t really find my way to where my cousin is staying, so maybe you could…” 

“Have you got the address? I’m pretty sure I’ve got some old city maps back here that I can give you...” 

He placed her coffee in front of her, and was just about to bend down to look for them under the counter before she laughed nervously and waved her hand dismissively, giving him a contemplative look over before replying. “Nah, that’s cool, I’ve got Google maps. It was nice meeting you though, I sure hope we run into each other again.” 

“Yeah sure, I mean Vienna isn’t that big anyway. Good luck on finding your cousin!” 

Amelia gave him one last peculiar smile before she left the café with her drink in hand, dragging her suitcase along with her. He let his gaze linger lazily at the door after she’d left, and was torn out of his daydreaming by the snickering of Zeynep, his colleague. She strolled by with a tray of dirty dishes that she’d been collecting and rolled her dark brown eyes at him while she shook her head in disbelief.

“Jesus christ dude, you’re so oblivious.”

“What?” 

“Honestly, she could’ve given you her number and you still wouldn’t have gotten it. What’s  _ with  _ you today?”

“Oh shit…” Suddenly Amelia’s flinging of her hair and occasional winking made sense, and he cursed himself for offering her a map. “I haven’t slept in days, that managed to completely pass me by.”

“Oh man, you’re such a hot mess.” 

With that, she went chuckling to the back room for lunch break, and he was left alone at the counter, cursing his momentary oblivion. Where was his head lately? He used to have mad game. He was once again distracted from his thoughts when the bell above the door jingled again. Great, no lunch break yet. He turned around, just slightly annoyed, and was met with a face eerily familiar to that of Lovino. He was caught up for a second or two, mystified, and completely forgot to greet the person in front of him who clearly wasn’t Lovino.  _ It couldn’t be _ . 

“Are you guys open or what? I mean, it looks a bit dead around here, but you have no idea how badly I need a my caffeine fix right now, so are you serving?”

“Uh.. yeah, of course.” Antonio tried to break free from the confusion. “Your name?”

“Angelo,” the man replied, his Italian accent breaking through the German as he said his name. A small and indistinct part of him felt relieved, because clearly this wasn’t Lovino and he hadn’t failed to recognize him - and his daydreaming about suddenly ending up in some alternate universe hadn’t materialized - but he was still befuddled concerning the resemblance between this man and his roommate. Damn it, he had to ask. 

“Sorry, I just feel like I recognize you from somewhere. Where are you from?” 

“Northern Italy, but I’ve lived in Vienna for a month or so now. I live nearby actually, the Kolping house. Ever been there?” he tried.

Something clicked in Antonio’s head, but it still didn’t feel quite right. Nevertheless, he couldn’t waste all day questioning this stranger, so he replied, “Oh yeah, I was there a couple of weeks ago for a moving in party. Laura’s - you know her?”

“For sure, we live in the same corridor. Must’ve seen me there!” 

“Sure,” Antonio mumbled as he carefully placed a lid on the drink before reaching over the counter to give it to Angelo. He was fairly certain he hadn’t seen anyone who looked so much like Lovino at that party, as he’d had his hands full trying to keep said person to start a fight, and as the other Italian left the café he was even more certain they must be related or something. What were the odds, two people of the same family just ending up in the same city? He wondered to himself if Angelo might be the brother who Lovino had been ranting about, but something about his manners told him that he wasn’t. Plus, he hadn’t been here long enough to encounter Roderick, he thought. Or, well, Roderick worked fast, but not  _ that  _ fast. 

The remaining hours of his shift were rather uneventful. He finished up at 15.00 and gratefully hung up his apron and said goodbye to Zeynep before he went home. The fatigue from yesterday was like sand in his eyes, but he blinked and sipped on his coffee that he’d brought from work as he took a seat on the train taking him home. He pulled out his phone from his pocket to send a text to Lovino confirming that they’d meet up in time for the two of them do go do their weekly grocery shopping together; something that had become a bit of a habit lately. It was practical and nice to have company during such a boring task, yes, but above all it was what kept Antonio awake and motivated all through his Saturday morning shifts at Starbucks. Whatever mundane conversations they’d have kept him intrigued for the rest of the week until the next time, throughout his stressful job at the hostel, his disheartening job waiting tables at the restaurant, and yet another early Saturday morning grinding coffee beans. 


	5. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your love is better than wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's a longer chapter. Sorry for the wait, a pandemic happened. 
> 
> Title is from Song of Solomon, 1:2.

A strong gust of wind made its way around the corner of the cathedral, and Lovino pulled his coat a little tighter around his body. Late October brought colder, and wetter, weather and he glared up at the grey sky, hoping it would show him mercy today. He had come home drenched far too many times this past week, and he felt a cold creeping onto him, shivering down his spine as he quickened his pace. He turned left and started marching across Stephansplatz, towards the u-bahn station, his gaze focused on the ground ahead of him. There weren’t many people out on a Sunday, so his walk was relatively undisturbed. He was so intent on reaching the other end of the square, and the hope of some shelter from the wind, that he almost didn’t stop at the sound of his name from a female voice behind him.

“Lovino! Hey, Lovino! That’s your name right?” the woman caught up with him as he reluctantly slowed his pace, and he recognized her instantly as she stepped in front of him to catch his attention. He was forced to stop, and she continued, “I’m Laura, Antonio’s friend, remember me? From the party like a month ago?” 

“I remember,” he replied, the last word slightly distorted by another shiver running through his body. 

“First of all, it’s nice to see you again!” he nodded in agreement, and she continued, enthusiastically, “Secondly, it’s great that I saw you! I was just about to let you know that there’s a Halloween party happening on Wednesday that you and Toni are invited to! Would you be an angel and let him know as well? I’ll text you the address, what’s your number?”

The words poured out of her, and he wondered if she was feeling even half as frozen as he was; she seemed to be running on pure enthusiasm and energy, and he felt too flustered to protest. He wasn’t sure he should be going to another party, or if Antonio would even go with him again after the scene he’d made last time, and a _Halloween_ party at that? Garishly dressed teens with far too much alcohol in their systems was the only mental image he could conjure of such events his brother had dragged him to in the past, but before he knew it he’d given her his phone number and she had kissed his cheek and called him darling before happily skipping off to wherever else she was going that day.

His cheeks felt hot, and he shoved his hands back into his pockets, returning to his march towards the u-bahn, now fuelled by both the cold and annoyance. _Great_ , now he had to deal with this as well. 

.

Lovino’s costume could be described as low-effort, at best. After telling Antonio about the party, he’d been dragged to a toy store by him in search of outfits. Antonio desperately wanted to dress Lovino up in all kinds of obscure pop-culture references, such as a white-garbed space-knight with an uncomfortable helmet, but nothing seemed like Lovino could wear without feeling too embarrassed so he’d declined everything. Even if he’d look stupid, he didn’t have to look _that_ stupid. Eventually, he’d settled on a pair of devil’s horns, with a matching pitchfork. It felt awfully symbolic, and it made Antonio happy, so he went along with it. Antonio himself emerged from his room early Wednesday evening dressed as Zorro, and his pure enthusiasm and excitement even drew a smile from Lovino as he waited for his roommate in the kitchen, as usual. The Spaniard had initially protested Lovino’s choice of wearing a white shirt when he ‘should be wearing red’, but they were already far too late for Lovino to look even more like a demon, so he managed barely to avoid a last minute costume alteration as they headed for the u-bahn station. 

This time, the party was situated in a considerably fancier venue. It wasn’t a dorm room, but a snazzy downtown apartment that probably cost more than Lovino and Feliciano’s inheritance, quadrupled. He instantly knew who lived here; _Roderick._ There was no way anybody else in Antonio’s group of friends could live like this and, sure enough, his suspicions were quickly confirmed when he glanced at a stack of mail and magazine subscriptions neatly stacked on a side table at the entrance. Instinctively, he took a step back towards the door, wanting to leave immediately, but Antonio was already greeting people, and this time around making more of an effort to not lose the Italian in the crowd and actually introduced him. Oh well, the place seemed rather spacious. Perhaps he could avoid the Austrian bastard.  

“So this is Lovino, my roommate, that I’ve told you about,” Antonio gestured at him in introduction as Lovino eyed the Frenchman that he’d seen at the last party he and Antonio had gone to together. “This is Francis, one of my oldest, dearest, best, friends.”

“Pleasure.”

“Well, what a lovely introduction, _mon ami_ ,” Francis chuckled in his repugnant accent, tossing his hair as he extended a hand which Lovino took briefly, out of common courtesy and habit more than respect. “Pleasure is _all_ mine.” 

“And then there’s of course-”

Antonio was cut off by a loud, shrill, and quite possibly even worse accented voice than Francis’s. “Oh saving the best for last, I see! I’m Gilbert Beilschmidt, the heart of this holy trinity.” 

_Beilschmidt_. That must be Ludwig’s brother. Who better to be so sacrilegious right off the bat? “Nice to meet you,” he said unenthusiastically as Francis scoffed beside him. 

“ _Excusez-moi_ , but you’re hardly _le cœr_ of this operation.” Another hair toss. “And speaking of hearts, why did you break mine with those god-awful costumes? I thought we decided to match.” 

“ _Lo siento_ , I forgot to order mine,” Antonio admitted sheepishly. “And I think Zorro is pretty cool too, no?”

Francis rolled his eyes, adjusting the hat to his musketeer costume which, to Lovino’s utter dismay, did strike some awe in him. It hardly looked mass produced. 

“It’s not like your boyfriend even agreed to the set rules,” Gilbert said, punctuating with a bellowing burp. “And this werewolf costume has _got_ to be the dopest thing you’ve seen.” 

“It’s hideous,” Francis said, exasperated, and Lovino let out a low snicker in agreement. Their eyes met quickly, neither knowing who was more surprised over that brief moment of inexplicable bonding. 

“Is that real fur?” Antonio fiddled with an ear on Gilbert’s costume, who tried to swat him away. 

“Hey, you idiots.” 

“Arthur! I was wondering where you were lurking,” Antonio pulled him into their circle by the arm of his extravagant pirate costume, not giving him time to protest. 

“I don’t lurk-” 

“I’d like you to meet my friend Lovino,” Antonio, overly enthusiastic, pushed the Brit that Lovino also recognized from Laura’s party at him. They both met in their unenthusiasm, polar opposite to Antonio, his eyes glittering behind his Zorro mask. “Arthur; Lovino, Lovino; Arthur.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Arthur said, a quick handshake finishing off the pleasantries. At least here was someone who wasn’t entirely creepy. “Laura is demanding all of you in the living room for shot twister. Oh, Gilbert? Can’t believe you’re actually here on time for once.”

“Oh please, I’m never late…”

“Wait, somebody gets _shot_ if they fail?” 

“You really haven’t been to many parties have you?” Gilbert put an unwelcome arm around Lovino’s shoulders as they all started to leave the hallway, breathing his beer breath on Lovino’s face, making him scowl. “We’ll teach you.” 

He twisted free of Gilbert’s grip as they entered the living room. It was a large, extravagant room, decorated with expensive looking furniture and old paintings lining the walls. It definitely didn’t look like it was meant for a party such as this one. In the middle of the floor, the sofa table had been pushed to the side and in its place was a gigantic twister mat spread out. It was larger than any one he’d seen before, which meant it fit more people. Laura, who he had already met, was on it, entangled with a tall, blond man dressed as a viking, another blond dressed in a spandex suit with the American flag on it, and his dumb cousin dressed as an angel. A blonde girl, resembling the spandex guy but dressed as supergirl, observing from the sidelines, next to another viking - albeit a considerably more grumpy looking one - waved excitedly at Antonio as they walked in, and he pulled Lovino closer by the arm, seemingly shielding himself as he extended to him the bottle of wine that he had brought with him. 

“Drink?”

“I uh…”

“Oh, _come on_ , if it was good enough for JC, then it’s good enough for us.”

However uncompelling that argument was, Lovino reached for the bottle and took a swig, swallowing an uncomfortable amount of red wine, wincing and giving the bottle back to Antonio who followed his lead. A thud behind him made Lovino turn around. The twister bundle had fallen, and the initiator, which turned out to be Laura reached for a small glass of amber liquid administered by Roderick on the other end of the room. As the other participants on the twister mat stood up, laughing, Laura licked some salt off her hand, shooting the alcohol, biting down on the slice of lime Roderick had given to her with the glass. She winced and shook her head as he bit into it, making her golden curls bounce, the glitter in it shimmering in the dim light. 

“Alright!” she proclaimed from the floor. “Now you guys have to join!” 

Lovino took a seat on one of the expensive-looking sofas as Antonio and his friends rushed to join, effectively avoiding having to make a fool of himself on the floor with these drunken losers. The empty seats next to him filled up fast and the music was turned up from loud to earsplitting. A fourth one joined the twister trio, strawberry blonde and covered in, presumably, fake wounds. 

“Red, left hand!” Laura announced gleefully. “Ooh, that’s quite a stretch Francis.”

“No match for that contortionist, am I right, Arthur?” 

Arthur, who sat next to Lovino, went beet-red and downed his drink, not even gracing Gilbert a reply. Lovino took a sip from his cup of wine too, albeit less desperately, glaring at Roderick from across the room as he readied a glass for Gilbert, having just been tripped over by Francis. 

*

“So what’s the deal with the Italian, then?” Francis mumbled, strained by having his left arm stretched underneath Antonio’s torso. 

“Yeah, what’s the deets? What’s his deal?” Gilbert chimed in from above, having one leg on each side of Antonio, hands by his sides. 

“There’s uh.. Nothing, no deets. He’s my roommate, we’re friends,” Antonio strained, the plank pose only easing up slightly by Laura instructing him to move his left foot to a blue circle a little closer to his hands. 

“No, _we’re_ friends. Spill.” Francis brought his feet closer, squatting next to Antonio with his arm still stretched underneath. “He’s cute, and you’re blind if you don’t see that.” 

“Uh- no, I mean, really, there’s nothing going on,” Antonio repeated, trying to look them both in the eyes to get his answer across. To no success. 

“Okay, so, he’s obviously a little too involved with God to be into you right now, but my brother’s knockin’ boots with some Catholic Italian and he’s happier than ever,” Gilbert professed from above him, leaning down to catch a yellow circle with his left hand. “So go for it.” 

“Sorry, who are we talking about?”

“Not now, Vlad,” Francis rebuffed the Romanian with a wave of the hand he moved from underneath Antonio to behind his own feet. “Look, I’m with Gilbert on this one. I mean I don’t know him, but he’s hot. What’ve you got to lose?” 

“I don’t know, our friendship? And, _guys,_ keep it down okay, he’s like literally right in the room!” 

“Don’t worry, _I_ can barely hear a thing in this loud room.” 

“That’s because you’re still half-deaf from that hunting trip, Gilbert.” 

“Don’t give me that shit Antonio, it was never that bad!” 

“Antonio, green, left foot!” 

“Let’s just put this on ice for now, please?”

“I totally agree with your friends, if you wanna know what I think.”

“No we don’t, Vlad, why don’t you just shut- aah!” 

“Oops, that’s a shot Gilbert!” 

“ _S_ _cheisse_.” 

*

His hand was fumbling along the wall, searching for some support, as Lovino made his way out of the living room. The sofa that he’d sat on had become too crowded, and Antonio had been dragged off after their twister game had ended. His head was spinning just a little bit, and he desperately needed water. Fluorescent light streaming onto the hallway floor from the kitchen fan led him in the right direction, the speed with which he approached it making him bump into some scattered people on the way. 

“ _M_ _i scusi_ …” 

“Hey, Lovino!” 

He looked up from his thirst-ridden trance to meet Laura. While trying to reroute his brain to say something, his mind briefly crossed to the plant he’d ruined in her apartment. 

“Uh, hi.” 

“Want some water? You look a little out of it.” He nodded as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the kitchen sink, reaching for a glass in one of the cupboards - no difficult task as she towered over him. She pushed him into a chair nearby as she poured him some water that he gratefully devoured. 

“So are you having a good time?” she asked, leaning onto the kitchen counter behind her. 

“Sure,” he mumbled in response, scrambling for something nicer to say. He had nothing against her, really. “I just don’t know a lot of people.” 

“I get that,” she responded with a warm smile, her eyes empathetic. “But that’s what you’re here for, right? And you’ve got me already - and Antonio!”

Lovino nodded in agreement, taking another sip of his water that Laura had refilled while she was talking. 

“Oh there he is - ¡ _hola_ Lovino!”

“Speak of the devil…” Laura mused, poking at Lovino’s devil’s horns which he’d almost managed to forget about until now. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” the Spaniard admitted, waving a wine bottle in one hand, and a half-full glass in the other. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m alright, been taken care of,” Lovino replied, gesturing at Laura with his water glass. “Congrats on coming in second in there.”

“ _Muchos gracias_ ,” Antonio’s face lit up as he took a dramatic bow before them, laughing as he got back up, making Laura giggle out loud. “If you know me, that’s quite the accomplishment, I’m way too clumsy.”

“I was hardly expecting you to last longer than Gilbert, to be honest,” Laura admitted, taking a sip from her can of beer, dodging a playful punch from Antonio as Gilbert and Francis entered the kitchen from the living room. 

“Oh hey, now is this where we find the party all of a sudden?” Gilbert’s shrill voice could overpower anything, even this blasting music, and Lovino rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his water. 

“Hitting the water already, _cheri_? Don’t tell me Antonio is getting you completely plastered already,” Francis, his usual sly voice, gave Antonio a meaningful look which Lovino chose to ignore. 

“Oh go easy on him, Francis,” Laura pleaded from the countertop. “Nobody can really get used to our ragers after just one try.” 

“Well then, let’s hope he returns for more…” 

Lovino rolled his eyes once more, tuning out the ensuing conversation, only vaguely registering Gilbert starting what seemed like a very intriguing story, with animated gestures that could make anyone feel woozy. Lovino was just going to lean his head to the side, onto the back of the chair, just for a moment, and then he would-

“Oops.” 

“Oh _mierda_ , Lovino, I'm so sorry… Gilbert, seriously?!”

“I’ll uh, get paper or something.”

Lovino was hastily pulled out of his drunken daze by the sensation of something cold on his face, dripping down his chest. His vision was blurry from the two, maybe three, seconds he had closed his eyes, but he saw before him Laura on the countertop, holding her hands over her mouth in surprise; Francis, having taken a step back with his arms raised defensively, a smirk twisting his lips; and Antonio, standing dumbfoundedly in the middle, gesturing helplessly at Lovino with a now empty wine glass in one hand and a bottle in the other as he yelled after Gilbert. 

“That won’t help, you idiot!” 

Lovino glanced down at his chest, and watched the red drops dripping down the white fabric, as well as a large stain starting to form right at the centre. He felt people’s looks burn on him as the air tensed; the small crowd anticipating his reaction to Gilbert’s mishap. He wasn’t sure himself how to react, mainly concerned with watching the wine slowly marinate his shirt. 

“Come here,” Antonio said, and swiftly placed the empty glass on the countertop next to Laura before grabbing Lovino’s hand and pulling him out of the chair. He mumbled something at Francis as they left the kitchen, so fast and quiet that Lovino wasn’t even sure he really heard it. “ _I can’t believe you guys_.”

Whatever response he might’ve thought of died on his lips, and he clung onto Antonio’s hand for dear life through the maze of corridors and rooms that he was being led through. They finally stopped before a door that donned a sign that said “No admittance” scribbled in a neat handwriting, and Antonio smoothly opened it and closed it behind them, leading them into a stylishly decorated bedroom in ultramarine and silver. Antonio opened another door that led into a bathroom clad in marble and silver with lavender details, clearly in far too good a condition to have been used by any party guests. He let go of Lovino’s hand when they entered and he closed the door behind them before setting down the bottle of red wine he was still holding onto in his other hand. He turned to Lovino, who had dug his nails into his palm, mourning the feeling of the Spaniard’s hand in his.  

“Alright then. Undress.” 

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

Antonio let out a rather shaky laughter and pulled a hand nervously through his hair, which looked rather wild tonight, more unruly than usual. The hat and mask belonging to his costume were long gone by now. He pointed to Lovino’s shirt, bringing him back into reality. 

“Your shirt, I need to wash it for you. Or you’ll never get that stain out. 

Lovino fumbled with the hem of said wine-marinated shirt as he contemplated his reply. “It’s fine, I can wash it myself later.” 

“No no,” the Spaniard waved his hands dismissively at him and took a step closer, close enough for Lovino to faintly feel his breath on his face. “I spilled the wine - or, well, me and Gilbert -, so I should do the washing. And it needs to be done _now_ , that much I know after all these years with Francis.” 

Lovino eyed him suspiciously, but nevertheless started unbuttoning his shirt, sparked by a hint of curiosity. Normally, he probably would’ve turned away, bothered to cover up, or at least felt an ounce of shame. He definitely wouldn’t lock eyes with Antonio as he was undressing, matching the thrilling, enigmatic and frankly inexplicable energy in the Spaniard’s brilliant eyes. He slowly peeled the shirt off his upper body, and handed it over unhurriedly to the other, who took it, a peculiar smile curving his lips before they finally broke eye contact.

Lovino took a slight step backwards to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He eyed the wine bottle sitting on the edge of the bathtub, trying to avoid looking at Antonio. He’d had way too much already tonight, but couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing it, steadying himself on the bathroom wall behind him as he took a swig. He was in need of some liquid confidence for reasons he couldn’t define, or just refused to face. Antonio, who was whisking and twisting his shirt around in a mixture of soap and water in the sink, glanced over at him and let out an amused snort. 

“What?” Lovino snarled, gripping onto the bathtub edge tighter as he felt his head spin. 

“Careful, so you don’t spill on any other important items of clothing. Wouldn’t want to completely undress you,” Antonio said, with a wink that made Lovino’s skin burn. He gave in to gravity and slid down into the bathtub, letting his legs hang out off the edge. The cool surface of the tub against his bare back sent a shiver through his body and seemed to make him more focused, more awake. 

He muttered back, “I’m fine, I haven’t had _that_ much.”

The Spaniard chuckled to himself as he wrung some pink water out of his shirt, that despite common logic looked miraculously clean already. 

“Sure you haven’t.” 

“That shirt looks remarkably clean, how is that even possible?” Lovino not-so-subtly changed the subject and Antonio thankfully went along with it. 

“Well, Rod’s got some quality soap.”

“No shit… Hey, have you been in here before? This place looked kinda restricted, but you sure seem to know your way around.” Lovino let his curiosity get the better of him and couldn’t stop the words from welling out. The Spaniard’s eyebrows knitted together together in reflection as he pondered his answer. Lovino bit his lip in anticipation, awaiting his response that eventually came in his usual, sanguine manner. 

“Oh, Roderick and I go way back!” He wrung the last of the water and hung his shirt carefully on the towel dryer. “There! Should be dry in an hour or two, probably. He just doesn’t like having people in here at parties, mostly. Or anytime really.”

To Lovino’s surprise, instead of suggesting a return to the party, Antonio grabbed the bottle of wine out of Lovino’s hands and slid down into the bathtub on his left side, taking a swig of the burgundy liquid. He offered the bottle to Lovino, and noticed his quizzical expression. 

“It’s a bit loud out there, don’t you think? Let’s hang out here for a while,” he explained. Lovino’s eyes darted between the bottle and Antonio’s expectant face. That, by now awfully familiar, feeling in his gut accelerated when he gazed at Antonio’s face - those sparkling eyes, that inviting and exciting smile. He stretched out his hand and grabbed the bottle, and Antonio happily made himself more comfortable next to him, a satisfied smile on his face. Lovino leaned back too after drinking some more wine, feeling the fabric of Antonio’s shirt brush against his bare arms. Goosebumps immediately broke out, and Antonio’s hand unexpectedly flew out to trace them with his finger. Lovino’s breath hitched in his throat, and he tried to hide it with a weak cough. 

“You cold?” Antonio said, his voice low and husky. 

“No,” Lovino whispered, feeling a heat burn in his chest as Antonio’s fingers stayed put on his arm. Antonio’s warm hand felt like fire on his skin as he held his lower left arm in his right hand, tracing the veins in his arm with his other hand. Lovino’s eyes followed the soft movements of his finger, transfixed, his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage at any moment. He noticed his breath quickening, and he looked up at the same time as Antonio did. The other’s face was mere centimetres from his, Lovino’s arm still resting comfortably in his hand, and he could smell the wine on their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Antonio’s gaze darted over Lovino’s face and Lovino subconsciously bit his lower lip. Antonio was _so_ close, and he was edging closer for every shaky breath, and Lovino’s head was spinning. Nothing else mattered now, and not even God himself could deter Lovino from whatever he thought was about to happen. Antonio was so close, and he smelled so good, his nose was lightly brushing Lovino’s, and his hand lightly tightened its hold on Lovino’s arm, and… 

“Oh, shit, uhm, sorry guys.” 

The sound of the door being flung open startled them both, and Lovino felt Antonio’s fingers grasp instinctively at his wrist before he slipped out of his grip as Lovino let out a startled shriek before he darted off to the side of the bathtub, struggling to climb out of it. 

“Th-this is _not_ what it looks like!”

Laura, who had barged in, looked apologetic but urgent. “Well, whatever this isn’t, can you continue not doing it somewhere else? I really need to pee, and the other two bathrooms are occupied. Someone puked all over the big one, and I’m pretty sure someone’s hooking up in the small one, it’s been locked for ages.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” Antonio heaved himself up from the bathtub as well, joining Lovino at the door. “We were just washing his shirt.” 

“ _Sure_.” Laura sounded less than convinced, dragging the word out as she shooed them out of the bathroom and into Roderick’s bedroom. 

The door locked behind Laura, and Lovino glanced awkwardly over at Antonio, trying to recover from what might’ve almost just happened, trying to forget and savour the moment at the same time, because when would this chance ever appear again? Antonio probably regretted it, and Lovino sure knew he should. But he couldn’t bring himself to it, he just couldn’t.

“Hey, you look cold. Want my shirt?” Antonio’s voice broke him free from his brooding, and he looked up to meet the Spaniard’s kind eyes. “I’m kind of hot right now anyways.” 

“Yeah. Uh, I mean, sure.” Lovino could hardly refuse as the goosebumps covering his torso and arms were proof enough he needed the shirt more. He gratefully, albeit a little abashed, accepted the Spaniard’s black shirt and put it on. It smelled amazing, and it completely distracted him from any and all regretful thoughts that might’ve crossed his mind. 

“Ready to go back out?” Antonio, half-naked on his behalf and with a bottle of wine in his hand, reached out his other hand towards Lovino, who took it without further thought. How bad could it be to let go, if only for a moment?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I want to note that I am not Catholic, and if I make any mistakes then I apologize beforehand and welcome any critique. 
> 
> A million thanks to Corus for beta-reading. You're the best.


End file.
